“Are you sure that was just a Coke?” I ask him as I hold up my empty glass. I seem to be working hard to form my words so they don’t sound slurred.
He nods, but instead of one head, I think I see two. Then he is leading me down the stairs. I don’t actually feel my feet on the steps, but I sense I am going down. Then he opens a door to another room where another sort of party seems to be going on. There are colored lights, but it’s very dim and the music isn’t quite as loud as upstairs. It looks like guys and girls are mingling around, dancing and drinking and making out. But it’s all kind of blurry and out of focus. I try to blink and adjust my vision, but it’s not helping.
“This is Zoë,” I hear Mike telling someone.
“Hey, Zoë,” says a blonde girl who seems to have two heads or maybe three. “Welcome to the rainbow room.”
“Huh?” I feel seriously nauseated now.
“Here,” she says, “let me help you.”
Now I’m somewhat relieved. Like maybe someone understands my dilemma. “Thanks,” I mutter. That’s when I realize she’s wiping something onto my mouth. I sputter and spit. “What’s that?” I demand, stepping back.
She laughs. “Just lip gloss. You get to be magenta tonight.”
“Huh?” I reach my hand to my mouth and touch the sticky substance she’s just smeared onto my lips. “I don’t want to be magenta,” I mutter as I turn around and stagger to the door. “I want to go home.”
But Mike is still holding on to my hand, telling me to just take it easy and relax. But that’s when my stomach just totally flips over and the next thing I know I am violently barfing.
“Gross!” he yells as he shoves me away. I’m relieved to get away from him, but I still feel sick as I head for the door. I desperately want a bathroom. As I stagger down the hallway, hanging on to the wall for support, Justin grabs me by the arm. At least I think it’s him. I blink my eyes since my vision is pretty blurry.
“Zoë!” he exclaims and then I know it’s him. “Where have you been?”
“Where’ve I been?” I manage to echo in a slurred voice. “Whad’ya mean where’ve I been? Where’ve you been?”
Then he takes me by my shoulders and pulls me toward him so that he can see my face in the dimly lit hallway. “What on earth have you been doing?” he demands.
“Whad’ya think I’ve been—” Then I stop. “I need a bathroom, Justin, I’m going to barf again.”
“Again?” But he doesn’t waste time and fortunately, we are right next to one and he opens the door and I run in and just barely make it to the toilet in time. Finally I am done, and feeling a little better, although my head is still throbbing, I go to the sink, but when I look into the mirror I see those awful smudges of magenta across my mouth. I get some tissues and manage to wipe off the nasty lip gloss before I wash my face with soap and cold water. All the while, Justin is just sitting on a bench by the door silently watching me. By the time I finish, my hands are shaking and I am so upset that I’m crying.
That’s when I turn and look at Justin. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I demand, “Why did you bring me here? And why did you leave me like that?”
“Nick was just showing me something.” His eyes seem to avoid mine and suddenly I wonder if this guy is really who I thought he was.
“What was he showing you?” I ask with my hands on my hips. I feel like I’m returning to my old self now.
“This new video game,” he says quickly. “I guess we just lost track of time.” Then he steps up and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry, Zoë.”
Well, his sympathy is my complete undoing, and I totally break into sobs as he holds me. “It was awful,” I blubber. “I was feeling sick and I couldn’t find you. . . .” I continue to cry as I tell him about Mike and how he took me to the rainbow room.
“Mike took you to the rainbow room?”
I nod then wipe my running nose.
“Did, uh, well, did anything happen?”
I tell him about the lip gloss and how I threw up and then Justin pulls me toward him as he gently rubs my back. “I’m so sorry, Zoë,” he says in a gentle voice. “Are you okay now?”
I pull away to reach for a fresh tissue. “I guess so,” I tell him. “But I want to go home now.”
“But it’s not even ten.”
“I don’t care.”
When I get home, I am relieved to see that my parents aren’t back from their movie yet. As a result, I am able to slip up to my room without having to explain why I came home early.
But as I prepare for bed, I feel very disturbed. Not just by tonight, although that was certainly bad enough! But I’m also thinking about what I saw in the wardrobe room yesterday, and about all the stuff that girls like Thea and Kirsti like to talk about in the locker room, and I am seriously concerned about sex in general, like what is going on, and why people act like that. And furthermore—WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS FREAKING PLANET???
nine
WITH A FUZZY TONGUE AND ACHING HEAD, I TIPTOE DOWNSTAIRS THE next morning in search of some orange juice. But it must be later than I think since my parents are already up. As usual, they invite me to go to church with them. I’m sure they don’t expect me to go, but at least I have an honest excuse today.
“I feel kind of sick,” I tell them as I pour a small glass of juice.
“What’s wrong?” asks my mom, her brows drawn together in concern.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe something I ate last night.”
My dad puts down his coffee cup and narrows his eyes. “You kids weren’t out drinking, were you?”
I make a face. “Yeah, sure, Dad, I got totally plastered. You bet.” Then I attempt a smile. “If it’s any comfort to you, I was in bed before ten o’clock last night.”
“It might be the flu,” says my mom. “It’s going around, you know.”
“Maybe so,” I tell her. “I think I’ll just lay low today.”
I stay in bed for the rest of the morning but finally feel better around noon. And that’s when Emily calls.
“Mom said to call you,” she tells me.
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about . . . something.”
“Something?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather talk face-to-face.”
“Want to go to the mall?” she asks.
And so it’s agreed that she’ll pick me up in half an hour. I still feel kind of sluggish as I get dressed. I try not to think about what it is I want to tell her or how I will say it.
But soon we are on our way and she demands that I tell her what’s wrong.
“Well, something happened on Friday,” I begin slowly. “It was at play practice and, well, it’s kind of hard to tell you this, but I think you have the right to know.” And so I continue, stumbling and bumbling along until I’ve finally told her the whole story of Todd and Shawna in the wardrobe room.
Her lips are pressed tightly together as she parks her car in the mall parking lot. “That’s disgusting, Zoë.”
“Yeah,” I say in my best “duh” voice. “I know that, Emily. It’s not like I enjoy telling you.”
“Well, it’s also pretty unbelievable. I mean Todd and I were together on Friday night and last night. And, if anything, he seems more in love with me than ever. I can’t believe he’d do something like that.”
“But I saw it—”
“You say you were only in the room for a couple of seconds?”
“Well, yes.”
“And it was dark in there?”
“I turned on the lights.”
“And you’re absolutely positive it was Todd and Shawna?”
I consider this. “Well, I was kind of in shock, but, yes, I’m positive it was Todd and Shawna.”
“I just can’t believe this, Zoë.” She turns and stares at me now. “I mean you only saw them for a few seconds, you said you were in shock, and you even said you couldn’t see Shawna’s face. Are you absolutely certain about this? Could you swear it in a c
ourt of law?”
Now I begin questioning myself. I mean with all the crazy things that have happened lately, and still feeling kind of groggy, suddenly I’m not too sure about anything.
“Are you, Zoë?” She’s holding onto my arm now, squeezing it pretty tightly.
I shake my head and sigh. “Oh, I don’t know, Emily. I mean I think I’m sure, but it’s all kind of hazy now. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to talk about all this.” Then I tell her about what happened last night and she is totally appalled.
“You’re kidding?”
“Why would I joke about something like that?”
Emily’s eyes are wide now. “Do you know what a rainbow party is?”
“I didn’t say rainbow party,” I correct her. “I said they called it the ‘rainbow room.’”
“And they put magenta lip gloss on you?”
“Yeah, what’s up with that?”
Then, acting like Miss Know-It-All, Emily tells me that a rainbow party is when girls put on all different colors of lip gloss (like red, purple, pink, blue, orange) and then take turns applying these colors onto a certain private part of a guy’s anatomy until he has a “rainbow” assortment of colors.
“EWW! THAT IS TOTALLY DISGUSTING!” I practically scream at her. “That is so sick, Emily! I can’t believe you even know—”
“Hey, don’t yell at me. It’s not like I make this stuff up myself.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“I don’t know. Probably Thea or Kirsti.”
“Do they do that? I mean in groups like that?”
She shrugs now. “Who knows? But I sort of doubt it. I mean they may be into some skanky stuff, but I don’t think they’d sink that low. Really, I have a feeling that only seriously lame girls would do something that disgusting. I mean some girls would do anything to get a guy to like them.” Now she looks at me like maybe I fall into this seriously lame and desperate category.
“What are you saying?” I demand.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “If the shoe fits—”
“Emily Schuler!” I yell. “I can’t believe you think that I’d—”
“Hey, you just told me you were there, Zoë.”
“Not willingly!”
“Well . . .”
Suddenly the idea of walking around the mall with my so-called best friend sounds very unappealing to me.
“Like I already told you,” I begin in what I hope is a calm and controlled voice, “Justin gave me two drinks before he vanished, then this Mike dude moved in and tried to take advantage.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly. Almost like she doesn’t completely believe me. “Yeah, whatever.”
Well, now I am seriously fried. “Yeah, whatever!” I yell as I open the door. “I don’t think I feel like doing the mall today,” I snap as I get out of her car.
“Hey, Zoë, you don’t have to come all unglued.” She quickly gets out too. “I can’t help it if your story sounds a little far-fetched.”
I hold up my hands. “Just forget it, Emily. I’m going home.”
“Don’t you need a ride?”
But I’m already walking toward the bus stop. “No.”
“But, Zoë!”
Without looking back, I yell, “Just forget about it, Emily.”
I feel tears streaking down my cheeks as I march toward the bus stop. I mean Emily and I have been best friends since middle school. We’ve always been loyal to each other. Oh, sure, we’ve had little disagreements before, but never anything like this. I can’t believe that she thinks I would’ve willingly gotten myself into a situation like that. And the fact that she knows what a rainbow party is but never even told me—well, what kind of a friend is she, anyway? And what about the fact that she didn’t even believe me about Todd and Shawna? Like I would lie to her? Well, maybe it is time for Emily and me to part ways. I mean who needs friends like that anyway?
I finally stop crying by the time the right bus arrives. But as I sit there and look out the steamy window I feel confused. Totally confused. I honestly try to see this thing from Emily’s point of view. Okay, maybe she truly believes that Todd wouldn’t do something like that. But does she really think I would make it up? No, she just questioned whether I really saw what I am sure I saw. I suppose she could just be in denial. But why wouldn’t she trust me, her best friend?
Finally, I decide that this is probably what happens when guys enter the picture. It’s like we melt down and our brains turn to mush and we start thinking and acting like crazy women. Or not. I guess I’m not sure about much of anything anymore. I feel kind of lost today, like maybe I need a compass or something to help me find my way home. Even when the bus drops me off at the stop that I think is closest to my house, I still feel disoriented. I know this is partially due to the fact that I haven’t ridden this bus since I was in middle school. But somehow, everything feels different. I feel different. And suddenly I actually wish I was just thirteen again. I wish that it was just Emily and me riding the bus to the mall to shop for a new T-shirt or pair of flip-flops, and that our only use for boys was to flirt a little and then make fun of them when they didn’t seem to get it. But times have changed. And so have I.
I finally get my bearings straight and decide that I need to turn left down Taylor Street. And somehow I manage to find my way home. And when I get there, my mom tells me that Justin brought flowers by, and that he was concerned about me getting sick last night.
“He really is a thoughtful young man,” she says as she shows me a vase of red roses.
“Wow,” I say as I smell the fragrant blooms. “No one ever sent me flowers before.”
Then she got a little more serious. “You know what red roses mean, don’t you?”
Feeling ignorant for the second time today, I just shake my head. “Not really.”
“True love.” Then she winks at me.
“Oh.”
“But don’t let it go to your head, Zoë.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Dson’t worry.”
Justin calls later to ask how I’m doing and if I liked my flowers.
“I feel better,” I tell him. “And the roses are beautiful. But I guess I’m still a little bummed.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “Oh, I don’t know. That stuff last night was kind of upsetting. But today Emily and I got into a big fight and it got kind of ugly.”
“You told her about Todd and Shawna?” His voice sounds shocked.
“Yeah. I mean she’s my best friend.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice. “And I’d want her to do the same for me if I were in her place.”
“Oh-oh,” he says. “Guess I better watch my step.”
I try to laugh but am actually wondering if this might be a real possibility. I mean if someone who comes across as devoted as Todd can cheat on his girlfriend, then why should I think that I’m safe? But of course I don’t say this. I look at the roses, now sitting in the middle of my bureau, and smile. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I don’t want to start sounding like a guy-basher.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’d understand if you did. That party last night was really over the top. I never would’ve taken you there if I’d known what was going on.”
I sigh now, reassuring myself that Justin really is the guy I believe him to be. We talk for a while longer then Justin tells me that he needs to study for SATs, and I realize I still have some homework, so we hang up.
As usual (I have a hard time studying without background noise), I turn on the small TV in my room as I read my English lit assignment. But before long, my lit book is flopped facedown in my lap and I am tightly focused on the premier movie that’s been playing for about half an hour now. It’s one of those hot and steamy movies where everyone is cheating on everyone and the heroine can’t make up her mind about which guy she loves the most, but I am amazed at how many sex scenes are in it. Why am I paying so much attention to the sex scenes? I suppose it’s because of all that’s been goin
g on lately. I guess I’m just trying to figure this whole thing out. Like what’s okay to do? What’s not? And where does a girl go for advice in these matters anyway?
And so, just for fun, I decide to keep track of how many sex scenes are in this movie. I actually make little slashes on my notebook to keep count. Now I know this sounds slightly whacked out, and I’d never admit this stupid little activity to anyone, but it’s actually kind of interesting. And while I’m at it, I decide to see how many commercials have sexual undertones in them as well.
By the time the credits roll at eleven o’clock, I am stunned by the number.
So I’m asking myself, is this why our culture is so obsessed with sex right now? Or has it always been this way? And are the things I’m seeing on TV (things we all know took place in the White House) acceptable? I mean this TV movie is one thing, but I happen to know that MTV and other channels are much, much worse.
And I’m wondering, are there any rules about sexual things? And if so, who makes them anyway? And do they change? And if we play by the “rules,” will we be spared from getting hurt? Or maybe everyone who plays gets hurt. Finally, my brain just can’t take it anymore. It’s all so confusing and I know that I need to tune it out before I go flipping nuts.
And so I tell myself to go to sleep. But it seems like I toss and turn for hours, and even when I finally go to sleep my dreams are riddled with sexual confusion. When I wake up the next morning I feel more mixed up than ever. Can’t someone give me some directions, or maybe just a sexual compass so I’ll know which way to go?
ten
I HAVE AVOIDED SHAWNA ALL DAY. AND FINALLY SHE CONFRONTS ME WHILE I’m on my way to play practice.
“What’s up with you?” she asks in a grumpy voice.
I just shrug. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Zoë. I thought we were friends.”
So I turn and look at her with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, I thought we were friends too, Shawna. But friends don’t cheat with their friends’ boyfriends.”
“I’ve never cheated on you,” she tells me in a defensive tone.
“No, I mean my best friend’s boyfriend.” Actually, I should say my “ex-best friend” but that’s beside the point.
Torch Red: Color Me Torn with Bonus Content Page 7
